


Yes, And?

by PixelByPixel



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 3x17 au, 3x18 au, Amenadiel doesn't say the thing to Cain, Cain and Amenadiel try improv, Dan tries to help, F/M, Gen, Short One Shot, The Easter Bunnies Fic Challenge, and I thought he had better chemistry with Kay/Maddie anyway, but it derailed marclo so..., i played with the timeline a little, it goes about as well as you might expect, starts just after Dan leaves Lux to get a burger in 3x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: Just after Dan leaves to get a burger in 3x17, Amenadiel and Pierce have a very different conversation than they did on the show.My prompt wasWho: Marcus Pierce/CainWhere: improvWhat: flamingo lawn ornamentOptional word: tomato





	Yes, And?

**Author's Note:**

> I think this was supposed to turn out silly. It, uh, did not. ;)

Cain looked after Espinoza, who had just left in search of his burger. “You’re friends with him?” he asked, with slight emphasis on the pronouns.

Amenadiel’s expression went thoughtful. “Yes,” he decided, a slow smile crossing his stupid, smug face. Peering at Cain, his expression holding a hint of suspicion, he asked, “Are you?”

“No.” Cain turned back to his drink, exhaling a barely-aspirated sigh as Amenadiel settled onto the seat next to his and ordered something that sounded like it involved fruit. Cain eased his seat away from Amenadiel’s, a small, subtle gesture.

“Dan is a good friend,” Amenadiel said. “He’s helped me deal with life here.” His expression going speculative, a glint of something like amusement in his eyes, he suggested, “Maybe he could help you?”

 _When_ , Cain wondered, _did Amenadiel grow a sense of humor?_ “I think he thinks that he’s helping,” Cain replied, with a vague gesture toward Lux. “Alcohol, an attempt at male bonding. He said I should talk about it,” he added, his voice dry.

Amenadiel’s gaze sharpened. “You didn’t, did you?”

The bartender set something pink in front of Amenadiel, and Cain shook his head. “Of course not,” he replied, his voice flat. As if Espinoza, as if _anybody_ could understand. The only one who could come close to understanding was the Devil Himself, and he had ended their partnership.

“Good,” Amenadiel replied, though not until he had sampled his drink. “He doesn’t need to have to deal with that sort of knowledge.”

Cain let out a short sound that, if it had held any humor, would have been a laugh. “Like Lucifer doesn’t tell the world that he’s the Devil. Even if I told Espinoza who I really am, he wouldn’t believe me.” He let his gaze move across the crowd, though he didn’t really see the individuals. “They believe what they want to believe.”

“They do,” Amenadiel agreed. “But if you really wanted Dan to know the truth, you could make him believe.”

Cain took a swallow of his own drink, though he didn’t really taste it. “What, kill myself in front of him?” he suggested. “Tried it. Not with Espinoza, obviously; it was a while ago. It didn’t go well.”

“I can imagine,” Amenadiel agreed. Perhaps he caught sight of Cain’s skeptical look, because he shook his head. “Okay, maybe not. Look, let’s go find Dan.”

“Why?”

Amenadiel got to his feet. “I really think he can help you. But we won’t know until we try.” He moved for the stairs, them turned to ask, “You coming?”

Cain sighed, but got to his feet. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. “Where are we going?”

Amenadiel smiled, a flash of brightness in the dimly-lit club. “You’ll see.”

Lucifer, approaching the landing at the same time, waved Amenadiel over. Cain, more than willing to let them talk on their own, surveyed the crowd below. He heard a short laugh from Amenadiel, and then Lucifer moved on down the stairs.

As he and Amenadiel departed, Cain heard a rippling chord on the piano, and a sultry voice sang, “At first I was afraid, I was petrified.”

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous.” Cain stood before Espinoza on the stage of the empty improv theater, his arms folded across his chest in a way that particularly emphasized his biceps. Not that he tried. It just sort of happened. He didn't even work out.

“I thought so, too, at first,” Amenadiel replied as he entered the theater, his tone nauseatingly earnest. He joined Cain onstage and settled a paper sack on a nearby table, adding, “And it was hard when I started, but Dan really helped.”

Almost, Cain wished that Lucifer was there; he knew the Devil would never be able to resist such a straight line. He contented himself with a meaningful look at Amenadiel, whose blank stare in reply suggested that he really didn’t understand his own double entendre.

That didn’t exactly surprise Cain.

“Look, Marcus, if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine,” Espinoza reassured, as if he had any say in what Cain did.

But if Amenadiel had done it, Cain certainly could. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

Espinoza smiled warmly, moving closer. “Ordinarily we just do a scene: one person talks and then the other replies. _Yes, and,_ that sort of thing.”

“Yes and… what?” Cain asked. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. It definitely wasn’t going to help. He’d just go along with it to shut Amenadiel up, and then he’d go get a drink at a bar that _wasn’t_ owned by the Devil.

“Not that again,” Espinoza said, though he and Amenadiel exchanged an amused look before the detective turned back to Cain. “Sure you’re not related to Lucifer and Amenadiel?” he added, though he was obviously joking. “Since you’re new to this, let’s try some props.” He went to the back of the stage and pulled out a large plastic bin. "Okay, we have some hats, a rubber chicken, a tutu, one of those flamingo lawn ornaments, a feather duster… there’s a lot of stuff in here. "He slid the box between Amenadiel and Cain. “If you’re not sure what to say next, just grab something and work it into the scene.” When Cain regarded him with visible skepticism, Espinoza just grinned. “Why don’t you grab something now to get started, and something for Amenadiel, too.”

Cain stepped closer to the box and considered the contents. Picking up one of the hats, he gazed at it and, just for a moment, was taken back some sixty years. What had that barmaid’s name been? He let his hands linger on the hat, then settled it on his head.

“Hey,” Espinoza said, his voice quiet. “What just happened there? You looked like you…”

“Felt an actual emotion?” Amenadiel supplied, his tone dry, when it looked like Espinoza wasn’t going to finish the sentence.

Cain flicked a look at Amenadiel, his lips tightening, then rummaged in the bin once more. He pulled out the feather duster and handed it to Amenadiel, his brows lifting in challenge.

“So now I just ask him something?” Cain asked Espinoza, though he kept his eyes on Amenadiel.

Espinoza moved back, presumably to a spot where he could see both of them. “Yeah. And just relax, man. We’re all friends.”

Cain nodded, with something that wasn’t quite a smile, and turned to Amenadiel. “So, _friend_ , what happened to your feathers?”

Amenadiel stiffened. When he spoke, his voice low and intense, the rumble of the thunder between lightning strikes. “My feathers will return in due time, when I have -”

Cain had been waiting for that moment of realization, when Amenadiel’s gaze slid to Espinoza. He couldn’t reveal his secrets, could he? “Yes?” Cain said, his voice light and taunting. “And?”

Things went downhill from there. Espinoza didn’t intervene, though, until the others shifted from barbed words to violence, Amenadiel sending a quick, easily-dodged punch at Cain.

“Hey, man,” Espinoza protested, “You’re trying to hit my boss.”

His response was clearly ineffective, and, really, that sort of thing was why Cain had recommended Espinoza for the union rep job. When Amenadiel reached for the flamingo, perhaps to use it as some kind of weapon, Espinoza snapped into action, putting himself between the other two. “Hey, okay, maybe you’re not ready for props…” he said, perhaps trying to keep it light.

Amenadiel dropped the flamingo with a clatter and instead reached into the paper sack he’d brought with him. Cain hadn’t realized what Amenadiel was planning until the tomato hit him square in the face. It all but exploded upon impact, before falling to the ground. The splattering sound it made as it landed seemed loud in the sudden silence of the theater.

“What the hell, Amenadiel?” Espinoza demanded, before turning back to Cain. “Pierce, _sir_ , I’m sorry. I had no idea he had those.”

Cain pulled out the handkerchief that he’d never gotten put of the habit of carrying and, with dignity, wiped his face. “We’re done here,” he said through clenched teeth.

He turned to leave, hearing Dan’s low-voiced interrogation of Amenadiel, and the fallen angel’s unconcerned reply, “Lucifer thought it would help.”

Lucifer. Of course. Everything came back to Lucifer.

It wasn’t until he’d settled onto his motorcycle that Cain realized he was still wearing Espinoza’s prop hat. He didn’t even consider returning it; the hat felt right, as few things did these days.

He started the motorcycle and rode until the memories pulled him in the proper direction. He wasn’t sure if someone had bought the place and turned it into yet another Starbucks, but… no, there it was, the familiar red awning right where it was supposed to be.

Reflexively, he took off his hat as he entered.

It hadn’t changed. Even the burn he’d left on the table was the same.

“Can I help you?”

That voice, almost painfully familiar, jolted Cain’s focus back to the present. He turned to greet… no. It couldn’t be. She was a woman from another time. “Kay,” he said, unable to believe it. “Kay, how is this possible?”

“Is this a prank?” she replied, her brows lowering as she shook her head. “Did someone put you up to this? Look, I get it. I look just like my grandmother, but this is taking things too far.”

Cain chuckled to cover his reaction to the woman, nodding. “Your grandmother, of course. I’m sorry. I knew her back in the day. The resemblance is incredible.”

“You knew her back in the day?” Kay’s granddaughter replied, with a smile of amused disbelief. “How old were you, like, two?”

 _She’s a spitfire_ , he mused. _Just like her grandmother._

“I’m older than I look.” Cain kept his tone even with some effort. He hadn’t been caught flat-footed like this in a while.

She nodded, smiling as she extended her hand. “Well, Mr. Older Than You Look, I’m Maddie.”

“Hi. Pierce.” He took her hand in his, telling himself not to let his hand linger on hers.

She wasn’t her grandmother.

But the similarities were uncanny. Oh, sure, Maddie’s hair was styled differently, but their mannerisms were almost identical. The way Maddie turned her head as she listened…

He had to force himself to focus.

“Pierce,” she echoed. “What can I get you?”

Cain took a seat at the bar and put down his hat, another familiar motion. “Scotch,” he replied. “Neat.”

Maddie could just be smiling at him because he was a customer, but somehow Cain felt it was more than that. Maybe it was the connection he’d felt with her grandmother; he’d always regretted not acting on that, but surely Kay had been better off without him.

Surely everyone was better off without him.

After all, she was going to die. They all died, in the end.

But maybe he could let himself try again. Maybe, if she was willing, they could enjoy the time she had.

It had been a while.

Cain smiled at Maddie as he took his drink.

Maybe things would work out better this time.


End file.
